


A Small Price to Pay

by hihoplastic



Series: DW Tumblr Prompts/Reposts [7]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-07
Updated: 2012-03-07
Packaged: 2017-11-01 14:35:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/357923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hihoplastic/pseuds/hihoplastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn’t do it on purpose, not <i>exactly.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Small Price to Pay

**Author's Note:**

> \- Prompted by [obsessive-monomaniac](http://obsessive-monomaniac.tumblr.com/) on tumblr: "They just had a kid and the Doctor is seeing him/her for the very first time." Bastardised by yours truly.

**A Small Price to Pay**  
\- doctor who  
\- river/doctor  
\- pg  
\- 1200  
\- prompted by [obsessive-monomaniac](http://obsessive-monomaniac.tumblr.com/) on tumblr: "they just had a kid and the Doctor is seeing him/her for the very first time." bastardised by yours truly. 

  
He doesn’t do it on purpose, not _exactly._  There’s an underlying intention that he steadily ignores, so if asked he can easily say it was the TARDIS’s fault, or chance, or just a bit of wibbly-wobbly, timey-whimey, paradoxical and potentially universe-altering _oopsie-daisies_  that landed him at that particular place at that particular time.  

River, of course, knows better, but she lets him in regardless.  The little first-floor apartment doesn’t look that lived in, but it’s warm and colourful, even without the tell-tale signs he’s (deniably) searching for.  

They do diaries, sort of - she’s just relieved to see he _has_ a diary, and, well, if he smudges his timeline _just a bit_  to make her smile all the broader, he can’t _really_  be blamed for that.  It’s not _his_ fault her grin is so intoxicating, and her kisses so soft and her hands so comforting, curling over his shoulder blade and around the back of his neck.  

Her ritual “hello, sweetie” is murmured against his forehead, and he grins in response, tightening his arms around her waist in a full-bodied, oxygen-depriving hug.  Her abdomen’s still a bit swollen and he’s still more than awed, but the wariness clings to his muscles and bones, jarring his movements as he moves away to (in his mind) stealthily search the room.  

He distracts her with small talk - for them, planets and adventures and, “Oh! Jim says hello; he’s selling off his dam and relocating to the Waters of Poom, just so you know, but he says he’d love a visit!” and other memories and spoilers.  She watches him bemusedly, leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen, tracking his motions as he picks up a book and knocks over a (thankfully plastic) vase and stumbles on the edge of a carpet. 

“You haven’t been here before, have you?” 

“What? No, ‘course I have,” he lies, scratching his cheek. 

He holds her gaze briefly, then continues his perusal.  There’s nothing.  The room is clean and bare.  Her presense permeates it, of course, and even bits of his own Time Energy here and there.  But what he came for, what he so desperately needed to find - by accident, of course - is missing.   

His throat tightens and he fidgets uncomfortably, feigning interest in a heavy textbook - “Archeological Sites in Northeastern New New Mexico.”  He doesn’t notice.

River shakes her head and suppresses a smile.  ”You can see her if you want.” 

His head snaps up and he nearly drops the book.  ”Sorry, what?  See who?” 

River arches an eyebrow. “You really think I can’t tell, my love?” 

“Tell what?” 

He frowns at his own voice, parroting her words back to her.  She smiles fondly and holds out a hand, inclining her head toward the hallway.  The Doctor puts the book on the coffee table and takes her hand, equal parts anxious and confused as she pulls him down the carpeted hallway to the room at the end.  The door is half open and dimly lit.  

She lets go of his hand.  He frowns, looking from her to the room and back again, and River gives him a little shove in exasperation. 

”Go on, then.”

Obeying, he creaks open the door and steps into the room.  A child’s room.  Yellow walls, a soft blue light, a familiar, wooden cot affixed to sturdy legs.  

“We really should get her a more modern one,” River says from behind him, “But neither of us can bring ourselves to part with it.”  

Frozen halfway between the door and the cot, the Doctor swallows thickly.  ”She’s okay, then.”  It’s half a question, nearly a plea, and River squeezes his shoulder in reassurance. 

“Have a look.” 

He almost says no, he can’t, he wants to wait, but he doesn’t and he can and it doesn’t take any more prodding for him to peer into the cot at the sleeping child.  His child.  His baby girl.  

He touches her cheek gently, then rests a large palm on her tiny body and grins.  ”Hello, gorgeous,” he whispers.  ”Hello, baby.”  He turns, eyes bright and cheeks stretched.  ”What do we name her?” 

River gives him an admonishing look.  ”Spoilers.” 

He pouts for a moment, then turns his attention back to his girl.  She wiggles in her sleep, her mouth opening, and he laughs, relief and joy and pride and love all spooned together in one sound.  

River, for her part, isn’t sure she’s ever heard anything more perfect in her life. 

“How did you know?” he asks, unable to tear his eyes away.  

River moves beside him and follows his gaze, leaning against his shoulder.  ”How did I know my time-travelling, rule-breaking husband with a pension for overreacting would cheat time to meet his daughter before she was born?  Lucky guess.” 

The Doctor huffs.  ”I do _not_  overreact.” 

“You probably came from the waiting room, didn’t you?”

“ _No_ ,” he drawls, glancing at her swiftly.  ”I mean, there’s the _slight_  possibility you might be going into labor _soon…ish._ ” He waves his hand through the air absently.  ”Time machine, I’ll be fine.” 

“You’d better be. I’m not going to be happy at any point in time if you miss the birth.”  
   
The Doctor blanches.  ”I won’t! I definitely, absolutely, won’t.”  He clears his throat.  ”Besides, Sexy wouldn’t let me.  And I suspect neither would you.” 

“Not a chance, my love.”

Nodding, he runs his fingers over the baby’s forehead one more time, turns, frames River’s face in his hands and kisses her with as much love and gratitude as he possibly can in his overwhelmed, deliriously happy state.  River laughs against his lips and wraps her arms around his neck.

“Thank you,” he says when they part, pressing a few more brief kisses to her lips and cheeks. Pulling back, River straightens his bow tie and smoothes down his jacket, the gesture so intimate and familiar it makes his grin widen and his hearts soar.  

“Now hurry up and get back to where you’re supposed to be. I’m going to need that hand of yours.”  She pauses, looking mildly guilty.  ”Might want to bring some joint pain relief for after.”

He chuckles and kisses her forehead one more time.  ”Small price to pay.” 

Ducking her head briefly at the admission, River swats his arm and pushes him toward the door.  She follows him through the living room, giving him one last, fierce kiss before shoving him out the door toward the TARDIS. 

“Don’t be late,” she warns again, and the Doctor gives her a sloppy salute, mitigated by the grin lighting his entire face. 

\--

He’s late, of course, he’s late, but he’s there, and his hand aches, and when she begs him to tell her it’ll be alright, he smiles and squeezes her arm and says, “She will be _amazing._ ” 

“She?” 

He leans in and kisses her damp forehead and brushes the hair from her eyes.  ”Spoilers.”


End file.
